Another (clean)
by Lilly Dolittle
Summary: It is obvious to anyone that cared to look at Raymond Red Reddington was capable of love. He clearly loves Lizzy like a daughter. But what if there was another he could love as well. Just not in a fatherly sort of way this time.
1. Chapter 1

_This is AU in that I am not following the cases of the Blacklist, just the characters. This story takes place sometime after Anslo Garrick._

Raymond 'Red' Reddington sat on a park bench looking on as world walked passed. It was obvious to anyone who cared to notice him, that this was a man deep in thought. Troubling thoughts, if the intensity in his eyes was anything to go by. No one really noticed, everyone went about their own day, their own problems, and their own lives. The only one who cared, the only one who knew, was also the one who had brought the worry to his man.

Dembe stood a few feet away from his boss. A magazine open in front of him, but he was not reading it. He wasn't even pretending to read it. Instead he scanned to crowed, loyally always looking to protect his friend. If you watched closely, however, you would see that every few minutes his eyes would return to the man sitting on the bench. It was the only indication that he was worried.

It had been three hours. For three hours Reddington had been sitting on that bench, and he had barely moved a muscle in all that time. Three hours since Dembe had received the phone call.

Three hours ago, Reddington had been finishing up a transaction with one of his assets. The job had gone well, everyone had made a little money, life was good. They had been walking through the park, enjoying the late summer air, when Dembe's phone had rung. After a short conversation, Dembe turned to his boss, and the air changed when Red saw his facial expression.

"What's happened?" Reddington had been prepared for almost anything: an asset had been killed, a deal had fallen through, the FBI was in trouble and needed his help again.

He was not prepared for this.

"Sir. That was Aspen. She never made it to Saint Kitts. She's disappeared."

The reaction was instant. His face had lost all emotions, and his body had gone deadly still. After a minute he had made his way over to a bench, removed his hat, and placed it on the bench before sitting down himself.

Three hours later, the hat still sat beside him; discouraging anyone from joining him.

"Ok." He finally spoke. He stood to approach his body guard. "Get Aspen back on the phone. I want all the details. Everything she knows about what happened. Then get our guy in Aviation Security… what was his name again. The little man with the bad toupee… Talan Harris… I am going to want to talk to him as well."

They started to walk, when Reddington stopped.

"And set up a meeting with Agent Keen for tonight. I have the strangest feeling we are going to need the FBI on this."


	2. Chapter 2

Special Agent Elizabeth Keen sat at her desk looking at the report she was supposed to be working on. The computer screen swam in front of her eyes every time she tried to read what she had already written. So instead she sat at her desk poking at the bruise on her temple.

Another Blacklister was in custody, and she had had another close call. Since starting this job, she had been shot at, drugged, blown up, beaten up, taken hostage, kidnapped… close calls were becoming her everyday life, and she was not comfortable with that. One day it wouldn't be a close call; one day the call would hit home… or the bullet.

The darker her thoughts got, the harder she prodded the bruise. It hurt, but that was kind of the point.

She was thankful when her phone rang, giving her a distraction from her thought. She was thankful, until she saw who was calling: Nick's Pizza.

"What do you want Reddington?" She knew she was being testy, but she was too tired to care. "We just closed a Blacklist case, can't I at least have a bath and MAYBE something to eat before you send us in harm's way again?"

"I am not calling about a name Lizzy." His voice caught her attention. There was no sass, no humour, no concern. His voice was deep, and even. He was serious, and she could guess what this was about… or more likely who it was about.

It had been two months since he had informed her about his search; two months in which she had compiled a file on his target. The more she learned about her, the more she wondered what Red's interest was in her. She was not on the Blacklist (Red had made that very clear), she was not a criminal, the only wrinkle in her record was a notice that had been put out for her about the time she had disappeared, but even that notice had been quickly cancelled.

"You have confirmation?" She asked. It was what she was dreading.

"All indications point to a Government agency. Which Government, however, I am not sure. I know it was not the US, the French, or the Israelis."

"How do you know that?" She didn't know why she asked these questions anymore, she knew he wasn't going to answer them.

"I have my sources." He was silent for a minute. She knew he was hesitating, she knew he didn't want to get the rest of the team involved, but he seemed to be all out of alternatives. "It's time." Was all he finally said.

* * *

The team was assembled, all except Ressler who was going to be late due to his mandated physical therapy. They all looked at her in anticipation, waiting for the new name and information she was going to provide them. They looked tired, but alert. She was nervous about what was about to happen. She didn't know how anyone, especially Assistant Director Cooper, was going to react to what she was about to say.

"Agent Keen, we will catch Ressler up when he arrives. Please start the briefing." Cooper thought her hesitation was due to the lack of one of the team. Great.

"Reddington contact me about two months ago…" She began before she was interrupted by Malik.

"Two months ago and we are just hearing about it now?"

The others looked at Keen expectantly. She signed; it was a legitimate question, but not the best start to this briefing.

"This isn't about a name on the Blacklist, this is different." She admitted.

Now she really had their attention.

"Two months ago a woman by the name of Cassandra Girard drove to Pearson Airport in Toronto, Canada; intending to board a flight to Saint Kitts to visit friends. She never arrived at her destination. We have not been able to confirm if she even made her flight. Reddington believes she was taken by government agents, and is requesting our assistants in finding her."

"Is this Miss Girard an associate of Reddington?" Cooper inquired.

"He assures me she is not, and the background checks I have conducted seem to support this."

She clicked a button on the remote in her hand, causing the screens around them to fill with data and pictures of a young brunette woman. Passport info, driver license, medical history, photos of her and her family, all lit the screens.

Before she could continue with her briefing she noticed Agent Ressler arriving. His attention was caught by the pictures on the screens. What stopped her from speaking was the look on his face.

"Our new name from the Blacklist?" He asked.

"Apparently not," Responded Cooper, "she's a woman Reddington wants us to find."

"What did she do?"

"Nothing as far as I can tell." Keen spoke. "Except for the fact that she is missing, I can't find anything out of the ordinary about her."

"Besides the fact that Miss Girard hangs around with international criminals?" The condescending Ressler was on full form today. Then she caught on to what he had said.

"You know her?" Keen was surprised.

"No." Ressler answered. "I know of her."

Going over to a computer he moved Aram over, and started to type.

"I agree," he addressed Keen, "on first blush, she looks all innocent and normal. We were never able to figure out what role she played in Reddington's organization."

"How do you know she played any role?" Keen was upset that she was losing control of the briefing.

"We didn't know, but suspected due to this."

Ressler brought up a photo that clearly showed Cassandra and Reddington watching a native dance in the middle of what appeared to be the Utah/Arizona dessert. He clicked the keyboard, and another picture came up. This one showed the two riding horses with the large buttes of the Valley in the background. The two seemed to be having a conversation, while riding side by side, but it was the smiles on their lips and the look in their eyes that gave the image an intimate feeling.

"These images showed up on the website of a local tour company for Monument Valley. When we reached out to the company they admitted that the pictures were taken and used without the consent of the individuals depicted. We dug into Miss. Girard's background. There were no red flags. We ran surveillance on her for months… nothing. There is no evidence that she even knows Reddington, except for these pictures. We always suspected that her background was just too clean, but our investigation was going nowhere, so we were ordered to cease, and focus our energy in a new direction. Now Reddington is requesting our assistance in finding her? Clearly our suspicions were right."

Elizabeth was shocked. She knew Reddington NEVER told her everything, which is why she was nervous about bringing this to the attention of the team. There was clearly much more to this story. She didn't like not having all the facts.

"Sir." She addressed Cooper. "Reddington made is very clear that the search for Girard would take precedence over everything else until she is found. He indicated that until she is located, there will be no more names."

"He is threatening to withhold names? Is this some kind of blackmail?" Cooper didn't like to be threatened; least of all by number four on the FBI's Most Wanted list.

"No," she said slowly, "he said that he would be too busy. He told me is always repays his debts."

"And what does he owe this woman?"

"I don't know Sir, but what harm could it do to help him? I don't believe she is a threat. At least not from the information I had." She added the last part a little hesitantly.

Harold Cooper gave her a long look before answering.

"I guess we will find out. Malik, reach out to your contacts in the international community. Ressler, contact anyone from your old team who is still around. Find out if they know anything. Keen, you can tell Reddington we are going to help."

Everyone nodded, and began to leave.

"Oh and Agent Keen," she turned, "I hope you are prepared to deal with… whatever harm it will do."

She nodded before heading back to work.

Reddington… God she hated that man some days.


	3. Chapter 3

MI6

Red cursed the name. For over two months MI6 had held Cassandra captive. How the British had convinced the Canadians to hand over one of their own citizens was a mystery to him, and one he did not intended to let go unsolved.

He still replayed the conversation they had when the FBI had told him. He had been summoned to the Post Office. They actually summoned him. He didn't like to be summoned anywhere. The fact that he had been in Qatar at the time, only made the summons that much more annoying. Over and over again he ran it though his memory; looking for some clue that they were not telling him everything. He was sure they weren't telling him everything.

He was greeting at the Post Officer by Harold Cooper, lead to the man's office, and told what they knew. Or so Harold claimed.

MI6 had taken her from Pearson Airport after she had passed through security, but before she had gotten on the flight. The operation had been deemed a Black Operation, so there was very little information to go on. They knew the Canadian government had sanctioned the operation on their own soil, against one of their own citizens. How that agreement had come about he still didn't know, and he didn't like it.

Red had enough of an ago to know that taking her was a move to find him, but he didn't have enough of an ego to think that that was the only reason for her imprisonment; or enough for her own government to give her up. He was starting to wish he had cultivated more contacts in the Canadian government, or their Security Intelligence Service.

Once he knew where she was, and what had happened, he had left the Post Office. He needed time to think. He had two options (well four really, but the last two were definitely out of the question), and he really didn't like either of them. He was not going to leave her to rot in some Black Site, god-knows-where; having god-knows-what done to her. He was also not going to kill her. The only options he could think of both included negotiating for her release; threatening, killing, or even paying to keep the G men of the world away from her. After that is where the conflict came in. He could send her home to her loving family and friends. It's want he wanted to do, but she would still be vulnerable. He didn't know what information the spooks had provided to ensure her imprisonment, he didn't know what they thought her relationship to him was, and he didn't know who else had access to that so called information. Which left him with his section option: the only way to ensure she was safe was to take her with him. She would still be a prisoner, unable to live a normal life; she could not hold a job, could not contact friends, could not even sleep in the same bed for more than two nights in a row. His life was hard one. Was he ready to force her to alter her life so drastically? Would she trust him enough to go through with it? Was he ready to have this extra responsibility?

He owed her, he knew that, but how much did he owe her? Could he really free her only to risk her getting killed by one of his enemies? He owed her.

He stopped walking to ponder that. He kept thinking of this as a debt to be repaid, but to be honest with himself, it was more than that. He had, after all, already tried to repay her. She was a rare creature, especially in his circle of acquaintances.

He made up his mind. She might come to hate him for what he was about to do, but he didn't feel guilty about it. It was the right choice… He hoped.

* * *

He now sat in his hotel room, waiting for the team to deliver her. He didn't know what Harold had told the British to ensure her release. Frankly he didn't care, as long as she was here by the end of the day. He might not feel guilty about the decisions he was making to change her life, but he did feel annoyed that circumstances were forcing him to change his life again; first Lizzy, now Cassandra. He didn't like this loss of control, but it was necessary.

Finally there was a knock at the door.

Opening it up, he saw Donald, and a couple of other agents he knew the names of, but didn't care to remember at this moment. Behind Donald, and between two other agents, was a woman in prison garb, handcuffed, with a black bag over her head.

Ressler pushed into the room, pass Reddington. The other two agents followed, escorting the woman, before placing her on a chair near the dining table.

"Is that really necessary?" Red asked, pointing to the bag.

"We had to keep up appearances." It was a weak explanation from Ressler, but he didn't really care. At the sound of his voice, the bag covered head that had been hanging to the girl's chest raised, and cocked to the side.

"Well it's rude." He reached for his sarcasm, "in my house we can be civil to our guest."

He reached slowly toward the girl, talking to her as he moved.

"Hey Cassandra, I am just going to remove the hood. You might want to close your eyes; the change in light can be quite jarring." He spoke from experience.

She was quiet, neither giving him permission to continue, nor any indication she had heard him. He was, however, encouraged to continue because her head remained up, and she didn't flinch when he touched her shoulder before moving up to the edge of the bag.

Slowly he removed the hood as not to scare or hurt her. Her eyes were closed as per his instructions, so she didn't see the slight twitch of is cheek that indicated he was upset.

Before him was not the woman he remembered. Her face was haggard, her skin was pale, her hair a mess. Gone was the person so full of joie de vie. She looked like she had been through hell and back.

He was starting to think that he needed to change his plan, when she opened her eyes. She might be pale, but her eyes were just as alert and curious as he remembered. She was giving him the same look she had given him in their hotel room at Monument Valley. It clearly asked: "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

"Do you remember me?" He asked quietly.

Her answer was to look at the FBI agents before turning her gaze back to him. He nodded his understanding.

"Donald, would you be a peach and rid her of those ghastly bracelets?" He pointed to her handcuff.

"We first have to inform her of the conditions of her 'transfer'," Ressler emphasized the last word which made Cassandra tilt her head in curiosity, "and receive her assurance that she agrees to the terms."

He waited for her response, but she only continued to stare at him. Even though he had her attention, he noticed that every few seconds her eyes would quickly dart to Reddington. He wondered if Reddington was giving her some kind of indication of what he wanted her to do, or if she was just making sure he was still there.

"Mr. Reddington had included you in his immunity package. As his associate, you are his responsibility. If called upon, he must be able to provide proof of your activities for any given date. He must also be able to deliver you and himself at a designated Black Site, should it be requested. Do you understand what I am telling you?"

She nodded in understanding, but it wasn't enough for Ressler.

"I need verbal confirmation that you understand."

When she finally spoke her voice was flat, quiet, defeated. So unlike Red remembered.

"I am being transferred into the custody of Mr. Reddington."

"Do you agree to the terms?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead she turned her gaze to Red. She gave him a searching look. He didn't move; he just waited for her make her decision.

"Yes." She finally said.

With that Ressler uncuffed her, and the three agents left the room.

As he left Dembe and Lizzy entered, carrying several shopping bags.

"Ah Lizzy." Red greeted her, "Did you and Dembe get everything I requested?"

She lifted the bags in her hand as confirmation.

"Great," he smiled at her, "could you stay with Miss Girard for a few minutes."

Before she could answer, he stepped out of the door into the hallway. Walking to the window at the end of the corridor, he stood staring out at the city views below, and took a deep breath. He waited a few breaths before turning to head back to the room.

His eyes widened when he took in the scene: Lizzy was kneeling beside Cassandra's chair. Her arms were around the poor girl who was shivering violently and uncontrollably.


	4. Chapter 4

"Sorry." The shivering woman kept saying over and over again. "I can't stop." She appeared to be trying to curl herself into a tight ball. Her feet were curled up under her, her arms were up around her chest, and she kept rubbing her hands together as if she was trying to warm them up.

"Are you cold?" Lizzy was trying to comfort the girl.

"No… yes… I…" Cassandra was at a loss of how to describe what was happening; she instead curled tighter into herself.

It was time for Red to take over. "Dembe, run a hot bath." Dembe took off toward the bathroom. "Lizzy, you will need to stay with her." Elizabeth continued to rub circles on the girls shoulder, and nodded.

Going to the phone he ordered camomile tea from room service.

Dembe emerged from the bathroom, water could still be heard running, but he nodded to Elizabeth.

Getting up, she grabbed both of Cassandra's hands to help her stand, before resuming rubbing circles on her shoulder. Slowly the two walked through the door, and disappeared from Red's view.

Red stayed where we was for a few minutes before turning to his bodyguard.

"What have I gotten us into my friend?"

Dembe wisely chose to remain quiet.

"Right."

* * *

Elizabeth turned off the taps of the now full bath, and took stock of the woman sitting in the warm water. Cassandra was still curled into herself, and it was not due to shyness, as by silent consent she had kept her undergarments on to protect her modesty. Her shivers, however, had decreased significantly, and her breathing had evened out.

"You doing better?" She asked quietly, moving to sit on the vanity chair.

"Yea." Cassandra answered. "Sorry about that." She added as an afterthought.

"There is nothing to apologise for." She assured her. "These past few months must have been hard."

"Yea." Cassandra unwound herself a little from her ball; she started to scoop up water to pour it higher on her chest and arms. Liz watched her do that a few times before grabbing a cup from the sink, and placing it beside her on the tub rim.

"Thanks." She began to use it.

Quiet reign for a few minutes; broken only by the sound of water being poured over a body. Liz kept an eye on Cassandra out of the corner of her eye. She wanted to maintain the woman's privacy, but also to make sure she was ok.

"Is it true?" The question was not quiet, but it was so unexpected in the silence that Liz failed to respond. "What the agents told me about Red? Is it true?"

The way she had said 'agents' made Liz uncomfortable. "You know I'm FBI, right?"

Clearly she hadn't known. Her eyes got distrustful for a moment before relaxing again.

"You are not like the others." She decided. "FBI? I guess you would never lose it like I just did." Although said with a laugh, the laugh was self-deprecating.

"Actually within the first few days of meeting Reddington I threw a fit, broke a very expensive lamp, then stabbed him in the neck with a pen."

Cassandra stared at her wide eyed, before a genuine laugh erupted from her. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand, but not before Liz started laughing too.

"Oh my god, we should not be laughing at that. It is not funny." Liz said while still giggling.

"It's a little funny." Disagreed Cassandra.

Just then there was a knock on the door. Liz went to answer it, and came back with Cassandra's camomile tea.

She sat drinking it, before asking again. "So… Is it true?"

"The Concierge of Crime thing?" She thought about it, not wanting to scare the woman further, but she also didn't want to lie to her. Cassandra just sat calmly waiting to hear what she said, which is what decided it for her.

"Yes it's true." The girl only nodded in understanding. "Reddington is a criminal." She continued. "He is actually number four on the FBI's most wanted list. I have seen him be ruthless, but I have also seen him be charming, caring, and protective of the people he chooses to care about. I have seen him kill, but I have also seen him save the life of… well an enemy if you could call him that; certainly someone who had hunted him, and tried to kill him before."

"Is he a good man?"

"Can a criminal be a good man?" Liz thought about it.

Cassandra smiled. "Robin Hood was."

That got a laugh out of Liz. "I think you might be stretching for a comparison there."

Cassandra got that thoughtful, melancholy look in her eyes again. "Yea, probably."

"So," Liz said brightly, not wanting her to sink too far into her thoughts. "What would you like to wear? I didn't know you size, but we got you some things so you can at least be comfortable until you can go shopping."

Cassandra smiled tightly. "I am… tired. I think I just want to sleep."

"Sure." She answered, and then went to get the relevant bags.

After Cassandra was dried and dressed, she showed her to one of the bedrooms of the suite.

"I need to head the office, before going home for the night. You going to be ok?" Liz asked, hesitant to leave the woman alone.

"I'll be fine. Thanks Elizabeth."

"Call me Liz."

"Cass." The other girl responded.

The two smiled before Liz nodded her good bye, and shut the door before leaving.

* * *

The next morning…

Red startled awake when the door to the bedroom slammed opened, admitting a panicked looking Dembe. Taking in the scene before him, Dembe gave his sleepy boss a once over, smiled, then slowly left the room.

Curious about the odd behaviour of his bodyguard, it took him a minute to realize he was not in his room of the hotel. That's went he remember the woman sleeping, cocooned in her blankets beside him.


	5. Chapter 5

Red startled awake when the door to bedroom slammed opened, admitting a panicked looking Dembe. Taking in the scene before him, Dembe gave his sleepy boss a once over, smiled, then slowly left the room.

Curious about what was up with his bodyguard; it took a minute for Red to realize he was not in his room in the hotel. With pieces of the night coming back to him, he looked down at the woman beside him. There was no way to misconstrue the scene; after all Cassandra was cocooned in her comforter. Looking down, however, he realized that at some point in the night, their hands had reached for each other's, and had not let go.

* * *

The night before…

Red and Dembe sat playing cards. Although their lives had changed that day, this at least was something that stayed normal. Red laughed when Dembe won another hand. He knew his friend thought he was letting him win, but in all honesty Red had not done that in years. Dembe was really that good at cards.

Both men looked up when the door to the third bedroom opened, admitting the newest addition to their group into the room. She silently moved to one of the large comfortable chairs in the room. She sat down, drawing her feet under her before giving them a small smile.

"Hey."

The situation was little awkward; no one really knowing how to react to the other. Of course it was only the woman in the room who showed any awkwardness. Dembe always dealt with uncomfortable situations in his stoic, wait-quietly-and-observe fashion. Red, on the other hand, always jumped into conversation, rarely allowing any true emotions to show through.

"Did you have a good nap dearie?" The hand was over, and neither man made any move to resume the game.

"Not really." She answered, looking down and away.

"Well…" Red continued, "Dembe and I were thinking of getting something to eat. What would you like for dinner?"

With a small smile, she answered right away. "Anything does not look like dog food on a plate."

"Ok. Then that is pate off the menu." He was happy to see her silent laugh. "How about steak?"

"Too heavy." She answered, with a shake of her head.

"Soup?" He countered.

"Too light." She answered, this was a game now.

"Mexican?"

"Too spicy."

"Gazpacho?" Nice one, she thought.

"Too cold."

"How about Italian; chicken… pasta?"

"Ahh… That sounds just right."

Red ordered from the kitchen, and the three waited. While they waited, it seemed the ideal time for Red to address the great big elephant in the room.

"So," he turned to Cassandra to make it clear he was talking to her, "I assume you have questions." It was a statement, but one that invited her to put those questions forward.

She thought about it for a minute. "I guess I should, but I really can't think of any right now." But then she remembered something. "That's not true. I have one." She stopped; the others just waited for her to gather her thoughts. "My family… do they know what happened? Do they know about my arrest?"

She sounded so broken when she talked about her parents. He remembered the way she used to talk about them, and knew that the one thing that could break her was if her parents suffered, or thought the worst of her. He could see Dembe's expression in his peripheral vision. Many people though his friend was expressionless, but Red could read him like an open book. It was not hard if you know the signs to look for. Right now Dembe was unhappy. He didn't like Red's plan; he thought the girl should know the truth.

"They know about your disappearance." This truth Red could at least give her. "They also know you have been found. I didn't tell them everything, though. I thought it better to leave it up to you on what to tell them."

She didn't say anything to the revelation. A slight nod of her head was the only indication she gave that she had heard him at all.

"Dembe and I were playing Gin. Do you know the game?"

Getting up, Cassandra walked toward where the two men were sitting. "No, I have never played."

"Then join us." Red got up to pull out a chair for the lady. Dembe, being the consummate gentleman, also stood until she was seated. "We will teach you."

The game went well, as did dinner when it arrived. Red carried the majority of the conversation. The two others joined in sparingly, but enough that the three started to grow more comfortable in each other's presence. All in all they passed a pleasant night before heading off to bed.

* * *

Red woke up later that night, feeling peckish. Deciding to venture out to the minibar for something sweet, he was shocked when he exited his room to find the living room freezing cold. Curious about the temperature, he first checked the lights; they worked, which meant the electricity was still on. Next he stepped near one of the vent; hot air was filtering out of it. That is when he noticed that the balcony door was partly open; the thin material of the curtain flapping in the breeze outside.

Red did not consider himself a paranoid person. How can you be when you KNOW that people are trying to kill you? That is why he had people whose only job it was, was to keep tabs on those two might try to harm him. He was confident that those people didn't know where he was at present. That didn't mean, however, that he didn't wish he had brought his gun with him.

Cautiously he approached the balcony. When no one attacked him, he opened the door enough to pass through. Looking around the outside, he almost missed the blanket peeking out from one of the lounge chairs. That is when he truly relaxed; there was only one person it could be. Sure enough, when he walked around to the edge he could see Cassandra asleep, wrapped up in the comforter from her bed.

On another occasion, in other circumstances, he would have left her to sleep. After all, what business was it of his, if she chose to sleep outside? But it was freezing out there, and to top it off a light snow was starting to fall. Moving to shake her awake, she started before he even touched her.

"Hey." He spoke quietly. "You must be freezing."

"I am." She agreed, stretching her back.

Reaching down, Red helped her up so the two could return to the relative warmth of inside. Leading her back to her room, he was about to wish her goodnight when her voice quietly broke through.

"It's too quiet." She wasn't looking at him, nor was she climbing into bed. She just stood, looking down at it.

"What?" He had heard what she said, but thought the question was the best way to encourage her to continue.

"It's too quiet." She repeated; still not looking at him. "I close my eyes to sleep and at first it's ok, but then the thoughts come. What if this isn't real? What if when I open my eyes, I am still back in that cell? It was quiet there too. There was no noise, not even from the other inmates. I need to keep reminding myself that I am no longer there. That this isn't… that this is real. Noise helps me remember. I can't keep my eyes open forever."

He knew exactly what she was talking about. He remembered that feeling. Making up his mind, he lay down on one side of the bed.

"Come on." He patted the other side.

She finally looked up at him. At first he didn't think she would comply, until she seemed to come to some internal decision. She slightly shrugged her shoulders, and then climbed in, making sure to cocoon herself in her blanket; though she didn't really need to, the bed was big enough, that there was a respectable space between them.

"I remember once when I was visiting Versailles. I met the oddest man, by the name of Guillaume. This man believed… truly believed with all his heart… that he was the reincarnation of Louis XIV…"

He didn't notice when Cassandra drifted off into slumber. Nor did he notice when he followed her.

When he looked back up from where their hands were joined, she was no longer sleeping. Her eyes were open and watching him.

"Good Morning." He greeted her.

"You stayed?" She sounded curious.

Red was not comfortable, so he did what he always did when he was uncomfortable, he deflected.

"It looks like you slept well."

She remembered this defection tactic and she decided not to let him get away with it.

"You know," she pursed her lips together before continuing; "it occurs to me that I have not thanked you."

"For what, exactly?"

"For springing me from jail." She joked. Then she got serious. "Really. Thank you."

"You are most welcome." Before he could think better of it, he leaned over and kissed her forehead.

His actions made him uncomfortable again. "How about breakfast. They make the most amazing hash here." He was up, and heading out of the room before she could answer.


	6. Chapter 6

It was a few days before Lizzy got a call that Reddington wanted to see her. He had another Blacklist name to give her. The days between cases were never dull; there was always paperwork to go through, and intelligence to gather from their captured Blacklisters. It was also nice to actually take some mental health time; the names on the Blacklist were often the worst of humanity, taking the time to remember that people in general were actually decent; you needed that time to survive in this job. Normally she didn't feel ready for a new case when he called, but today she was more than ready to get out of the Post Office.

Ressler had been insufferable since they had rescued Cassandra from MI6. It was clear he didn't believe it was a 'rescue'. He believed it was a prison break; he believed she was criminal. He had started obsessively going over his notes from the time his old team had run surveillance on her, looking for anything he had missed. Lizzy could not see what he thought he saw in her; her shock at the situation she was caught up in seemed so genuine. Lizzy just didn't buy her as one of Red's associates… but then why did he save her? When she had mentioned her opposing views to Ressler, he had belittled her experience and her knowledge of Red and his people. The worst part was she could not refute what he said. Though she might believe Cassandra to be an innocent, she still had a lot of unanswered questions. The entire situation was just adding tension to the office.

She was very happy to leave.

The address he provided her led to a lovely, large, almost gothic style house. She followed the driveway through a stone arch to the rear of the house. She parked beside Red's current vehicle. Before she could wander to the front of the house, Dembe opened the back door, and waited for her to enter. He led her though the kitchen, down a hallway, and into an office near the front of the house. He didn't go into the office, just motioned for her to enter. She was shocked to find that it was not Reddington in the room, but Cass.

"Liz!" The woman looked so different. She could not put her finger on it at first. The clothes were the ones she had bought her before she arrived; her face still looked gaunt, but less than before; and she looked so tired. She looked more tired than she had looked that first day. Then it hit her, her hair was different.

"You've done something to your hair?" He didn't hide her surprise.

Cass's face showed a moment of unease. "Oh yea…" she ran her hands through her tresses, "Red brought someone in to trim it and dye it. Had to hide the greys that were starting to show."

Thinking back a few days ago, Liz remembered seeing the other woman's roots. She was surprised to realize that the roots had shown gray hairs. She had seemed so young that that detail had not registered with her. She had to remind herself that the other woman and she were around the same age.

"Well it looks good. How have things been?" She had thought about visiting her before now, but their deal with Reddington was so that she didn't want to overstep any boundaries.

"Good. Better than I expected." She added brightly. "I haven't been sleeping well, but…" She hesitated; Liz could tell she wanted to say or ask something, but then thought better of it. "Well… that is to be expected I guess."

"Sure it is." Liz agreed. No matter what Ressler said, or what doubts she still had, her heart went out to the woman.

"Did you know Red and Dembe never sleep in the same place for more than two nights?" She asked.

"Yes, I did know."

"It's weird." Cass pulled a face. "Just something else to get used to. I am sure I can; it will not be the first time I have lived out of a suitcase."

Liz thought about it. Not sure if she could do it. She loved her house, her dog, her clothing, her furniture. To have to live everyday with only the things in a suitcase would be a difficult arrangement. She had never really thought about Red living that way, but she guess he had this entire time.

"If you plan your outfits right, you could easily mix and match." She offered as advice.

Before Cass would answer, Red entered.

"Lizzy!" Red always had to take up all the space in a room. No matter the size, his personality always filled it. "So sorry to be late, but there was business I could not delay."

She wasn't sure she believed him, but if he had deliberately left the two of them alone to get to talk, then she could not be upset with that.

Walking over to the other woman, he placed his hand on her lower back. "If you could be a dear, Lizzy and I have some FBI business to discuss."

A look passed between the two; one that was significant, but that Liz could not place. The two seemed comfortable with each other, yet uncomfortable at the same time. Cass went to leave and was just at the door when she turned back.

"I hope to see you again soon?" She tried to sound casual, but Liz could hear the slight desperation in the question.

"Of course." She assured her. Then Cass was gone.

The meeting with Reddington went well. Reddington gave her a name, and as little information as he could to get her interested, but clueless to the real reason for his interest in that individual.

As she was leaving, she passed Dembe in the Kitchen. She knew she shouldn't, but her curiosity had been bothering her during the entire meeting she had just had.

"Dembe." She called to get his attention. He didn't say anything, only looked up from the newspaper he was reading. "Is everything ok with Cass? She looks really tired and there was something between her and Reddington." He didn't respond. "I don't mean to pry, I am just worried." She tried to justify her curiosity.

When he spoke it was in his normal soft, and heavily accented voice. It was also to the point. "She is being stubborn." He said. "And he is being… patient."

"Patient?" It was an odd word to us.

"Overly patient." He answered. Then he turned back to his paper, ending the conversation.

Still not really having the information she was looking for Lizzy left still thinking about the look.

Later that night Red was reading in bed, when a quiet knock came from his door. Getting up he went to open it. Outside in the hallway was Cass, wrapped up in her comforter, with a glass of water in her hand. She looked so tired; it was clear she had not slept since that first night.

Without a word, he stepped aside, allowing her to enter. She made her way over to the bed, and crawled in, making sure to move his blankets over so he could still use them.

He joined her, without touching. He then started to tell he about the time his friends and he had gone fishing when they were 12, without letting any adult know where they were.

From the shadows in the hallway, Dembe smiled.

"Finally." He breathed, before heading to bed himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Red woke up when he felt the bed next to him dip. He knew right away what was happening. Carefully, quietly, and quickly Cass was extracting herself from his bed and the room. Well if that is was what she needed to do to feel better about the situation he was not going to interfere. There was no shame in her need for companionship to feel safe enough to sleep, but he understood that most people didn't think the way he did. Why should he make it more difficult for her. He was a little uncomfortable when his brain decided to remind him that he was also sleeping better with her there too. He always slept better with a woman in his bed. He had just always assumed it was due to the sex beforehand… apparently not.

When Red woke up in the morning, or night, he was up for the day. Today he stayed abed for another 20 minutes. He wanted to give her time; she had tried to leave the bed so carefully that it seemed a shame to let her know that she had woken him up. When he did finally leave the room, he was showered, dressed, and ready for the day.

It was the smell of breakfast cooking that greeted him downstairs. Making his way to the kitchen, he saw her there, still in her silk pajamas, dancing at the stove as she cooked.

"Morning." She greeted him with a big smile. She didn't seem embarrassed or ashamed about last night; in fact she seemed relaxed, and well rested for the first time in days.

"Sleep well?" He smiled back at her as he sat down at the island counter.

"Very," she half turned, full of energy, "as you well know."

Even though he could not see her face, he could hear her smile; a smile that was not there when she finally turned to face him. Instead she looked concern.

"I…" She struggled to find the words she needed. "I'm sorry about last night." He didn't say anything. "I know it's weird… I mean… I don't really know you… but then again, it's not like it's the first time we've slept…"

He could see she was spinning, so I held up his hand to stop her.

"Have you been sleeping these past few nights?" He asked in his most reasonable tone. A tone he was not used to using. He normally liked to make the people he was questioning feel nervous… or idiotic.

"No." She admitted.

"Did you sleep well last night?" He continued.

"Yes." She didn't even hesitate.

"Why did you come to my room last night?"

"Because the last time I slept… a proper night sleep… was that first night. I tried having other noises in the room: a ticking clock, the radio. They didn't work."

"Well there you go then." He smiled at her, returning to his playful criminal persona. "You need sleep. You only sleep when I am there. I am happy to be of service." He gave her a little wink that made her laugh.

"I'm sure it's such a hardship for you." She teased, before getting serious again. "But that fact is that despite our… past… we don't actually know each other that well."

He got serious as well: "I know you well enough."

"Now that makes me nervous."

She might be nervous, but as she said it she brought breakfast over to the table and laid it down. She was not scared, just cautious; a trait he could appreciate, so he decided to change the topic.

"Where is Dembe? It is not like him to miss breakfast."

"Oh he just left before you arrived; said he wanted to take a walk."

Ah, so Dembe was doing a safety sweep. There was no need to worry Cass about the protective detail he had surrounding himself… and now her… he was glad Dembe felt the same way.

"What are you plans for today?" She asked as the two ate.

"I have a few meetings," he vaguely stated, "but they should not take long."

"OK." She remained silent after that. He could tell she had asked for a reason, but she didn't seem to want to elaborate on it.

"Was there something you wanted to do?" Sometimes the blunt approach was the best.

"Actually, yea. I was kind of hoping I could go shopping… for clothes." She quickly jumped to defend her request, before he even had time to think about it. "Not that I am not thankful for clothes that Liz and Dembe already got me, but they are not really… well… me." As she said this, she pointed down to her silk PJs. "I was also hoping to get some more… fitted… underclothes."

She looked embarrassed by the need for bras and panties. It was cute. He had slept next to her many times, three times in the same bed. He had even seen her in a bathing suit, but she still blushed when she mentioned 'underclothes'.

"Of course. Sounds like a blast."

Shopping was one of his many indulgences; he was starting to really look forward to the day ahead.


	8. Chapter 8

"You can't be serious!" Cass was shocked; she could not stop laughing.

"My dear," As Red spoke he took her hand and placed her arm in his, "I do not see what the issue is."

"The issue!" Her eyes were as wide as her smile, as she fought to catch her breath. "It's a lingerie store!"

"And I am a great fan of lingerie." He said reasonably.

Using the arm not currently linked to hers, he opened the door, but she resisted going through. Realizing she was not going to win this argument, she finally acquiesced and moved through. Her face was bright red: a little from laughing, and a little from embarrassment.

"Fine," She said cheekily, "but I am not modeling the wares for you."

"Shame." Was all he said, as the store attendant approached them.

She could not stop snickering as they wandered around, looking at a vast assortment of bras, panties, and sleep wears… or not-so-much-to-sleep-in wears. The attendant kept subtly pointing out the comfy sitting area to Red, but he always politely rejected the suggestion that he should sit by pulling out another pieces and making comments on it.

Cass finally took pity on the shop girl, when Red pulled out a hideous purple and green number.

"I believe I saw this exact same negligee on a prostitute once in Amsterdam; an amazingly unattractive woman. Her fashion sense clearly didn't help matters either. How she managed to make a living, I will never know. But to each his own I guess."

It was impossible not to laugh at his antics, no matter how hard she tried.

"Can you show me to changing rooms?" The other girl looked so very relieved. Turning to Red, Cass mouthed. "Go sit." But he ignored her in favour of contemplating the monstrous negligee in his hand.

When Cass finally emerged from the dressing rooms, she looked around for the under-clothes she decided to purchase. Seeing Red talking to sales lady, she approached.

"All set?" He asked.

"I think." She looked around again. "Where do I pay?" This was directed at the lady, until she noticed the look she gave over her shoulder at Red. Turning back, she gave him a questioning look.

"All taken care of." She looked around again in confusion. "Dembe already has your bags stored in the car." He clarified.

"Bags?" She asked. He knew what she was asking. The items she had chosen would easily fit into one bag. He didn't feel the need to clarify that he had told the store attendant to keep any and all pieces that she had shown an interest in. It would be a nice surprise for later.

Their next stop was a quaint yet high end boutique downtown. The walk was quiet, and Red was concerned at the shift in atmosphere. When before Cass seemed light hearted and carefree, now she seemed pensive, almost sad. When they entered the store Cass broke off to start looking through the clothing; again without a word to Red. This left him the pleasure of greeting the store attendant, and explaining their needs.

Cass continued to wander around; picking up one pieces of clothing, then placing it back. When the attendant showed Cass to the change rooms, Red could not help but notice that she didn't have any clothes with her. He, therefore, picked a few pieces he thought would complement her fair skin and dark hair, and sent them back before sitting to wait.

With nothing else to do, his mind wandered to earlier. She had been happy, bubbly… flirty. Something was different now, something had definitely changed. The longer he waited, the more concerned he grew. Therefore, it was not a surprised when he noticed the shop lady approaching him.

"Sir," she stopped in front of him, and spoke quietly; as if afraid to be heard, "I believe there is something wrong with your… your… with the lady."

Following the sales lady to the dressing room, he stopped her before she could knock on the dressing room door. Listening carefully, he could hear the distinctive breathing and sniffles of someone crying.

"Hey." He called as he gently wrapped his knuckles on the frame. "Everything OK in there?"

"Everything's fine." Came the reply. He knew she was lying, but to her credit her voice gave no signs of her tears.

"Then why the tears?" There was no reason to play along, if she was unhappy, hurt, or scared, then he needed to know.

It was only because he was listening intently that he heard the quiet, "Damn it!" that made him smile.

Not long after the door opened a crack and Cass peeked out. Her face was white and red, her eyes bloodshot. Clearly she had been in tears for a while.

"You want to head back?" He asked softly.

She nodded, only voicing a soft "Sorry."

"Do not worry your pretty little head about it." He tried to reassure her. "We can always come back another day."

It wasn't only her silence at this statement that made it click for him; it was also the way she seemed to shrink into herself. It was the shopping that had upset her. It confused him at first. Why was upset about shopping?

Thanking the attendant for her assistance, and making sure he left her something for her troubles, he led Cass from the store and back to his car.

The drive back to the house was quiet. Red noticed how Dembe kept looking in the rear view mirror, so he shook his head to indicate for the other man to leave it alone.

Once back, Dembe brought the bags into the living room. Then he left them in the hopes Raymond would solves whatever problem he had caused.

"I'm sorry." It seemed to be Cass's go to phrase of late, and it was starting to get on Red's nerves.

"For what?" He asked tiredly.

"For being overly emotional." She half laughed. "I know I over-reacted, guess my captivity affected me in more ways then I first thought."

There was more to it, he was sure. "What was it?" He asked. "If you didn't like the clothes at that shop we could have easily gone to another one."

She shook her head, "The clothes were beautiful."

He remained silent, the look he was giving her an invitation to continue.

"Good Red!" She was frustrated. "The shirt you sent back was 75$. It was just a plain, simple tank top. The jacket was over 200$." By this point she was pacing the floor, but she turned to look at him. "I can't afford that."

"But I can." He reminded her quietly.

At his comment she flung herself onto the nearest seat, bowed her head, and hid her eyes with her hands. She rubbed her faced as she finally looked back up at him; one hand coming to rest at her temple.

"How am I ever going to pay you back so much money?" She asked defeated.

Pay him back? She expected to pay him back? There was no way he was expecting her to pay him back. She needed clothes; he could afford to buy them for her. What was so complicated about that? So he told her as much. Then something dawn on him.

"Is that why you tore up the…." He didn't finish, but she knew what he was talking about.

"There is no such thing as free money Red. So yea, that is why I tore them up."

He could only stand there shaking his head. "I really don't understand you."

"There is no such thing as free money." She repeated slowly. At least she was calm now. "Money has to be earned. You have to work hard for it. If you want to work less, and/or earn a lot, then you have to be clever. And you have to be cleverer still to keep it. Free money doesn't exist; there is always a price to be paid. Tell me I'm wrong." She challenged him.

He couldn't tell her she was wrong, because she wasn't. He also couldn't tell her that that she was already paying the price.

"I sound ungrateful; don't I?" She shook her head again. "I know this is not your fault, and I AM grateful for everything you have done. You didn't have to include me in your immunity package. It's just that a lot of things became 'real' today. I can't work, I can't even get a retail job. I have to be reliant on others until this situation is resolved… IF it's resolved… it was just a little much." She ended in almost a whisper.

Red didn't feel guilty. He wouldn't allow himself to feel guilty. This feeling wasn't guilt, though he didn't know another name for it.

"The way I see it," he started, using his most persuasive tone, "you don't have many options. Your freedom came at a price… for both of us. I have money, I am willing to pay." Then he got that cocky smile of his. "Your other option is to reject all gifts from me; in which case you will have to go around naked. I am not opposed to his idea. It will definitely add spice to mine and Dembe's life."

He stopped talking when a pillow went sailing towards his head, but at least she was laughing, so mission accomplished.

"Fine." She shook her head in amusement. "I don't really have much of a choice do I, but let's compromise. At least give me that."


	9. Chapter 9

Cass kept looking back at the car following them. Every time she looked back the car appeared closer and closer. Panic was welling up inside her. Looking over at the driver, she wanted to say something; tell her to go faster, demand she try to evade their pursuer, something… anything! But every time she tried to speak nothing came out. She could only watch in silence and fear as the car moved nearer and nearer.

She couldn't let them take her again. She couldn't go back to that dark quiet cell. She wouldn't survive this time. This time they would make her disappear; they would erase her from the world.

She tried to scream, but again nothing came out. She tried to cry, but no tears would come. She was panicking; she could tell she was panicking. It was getting harder to breath. Her own body was betraying her. She couldn't talk, she couldn't cry, she couldn't breathe, and now she couldn't think.

The car was now right on their tail. Any minute now, they would catch them, and then it would all be over. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the end, when she felt the car pull to the right. She opened her eyes just in time to see as they entered an industrial garage. Behind them the door closed, blocking out her pursuers. Exiting the car the first person she saw was Red; waiting for her, smiling.

In no time she was in his arms, her ear to his chest as she listened to his heartbeat. She concentrated on the feeling of his vest beneath her cheek, and allowed that sensation to help bleed away all the negative feelings that had been welling up inside her earlier.

"You're safe sweetheart." He whispered above her. She could feel the words ruble in his chest as he spoke them.

Pulling away, she took another look around the garage. It was a huge place, filled with the most colourful bouncy castle cars. She liked it here; the place felt happy. Wasting no time she left Red's arms to join the other people jumping on the cars. She was light as air, giggling as she bounced higher and higher.

As she bounced she watched as Red put on a pair of old fashion boxing gloved, and entered the ring to spar with a hazy opponent.

She was distracted when she came to the realization that the more she concentrated, the more she could control her speed of decent during her jumps. Maybe if she focused hard enough she could stop her decent altogether and just float.

Closing her eyes she focused on the sound of Red's heartbeat, and tried to float.

* * *

Cass awoke with a smile; remembering how much fun she had had in her dream. Strangely, she could still hear the heartbeat from her dream. She could also feel her pillow moving beneath her. It didn't take her long to figure out what was going on.

Taking a deep breath, she breathed in the unique sent of the man beneath her. It was all so… nice. She didn't want to open her eyes and ruin it.

"Good morning." Alright, so he knew she was awake.

Shyly she looked up at him. She was surprised to see that not only was he awake, but he had been reading. Apparently he had been awake for a while.

Reaching over him, she stole his water, and drank before speaking. He just smirked at her brazen behaviour.

"So… how did this happen?"

"You had a nightmare." It was an unsatisfactory answer. In fact it wasn't really an answer at all. She had noticed he did that a lot.

She was going to demand a real answer, when she realized that she had yet to move from his side. She was still wrapped around him in a very intimate way. When she became aware that she had not moved yet, she also became aware of some other things. Not knowing what else to do, she lay her head back down, and closed her eyes.

In many ways she wanted to move; then again, in other ways she wanted to stay exactly where she was. The longer she thought about it, the weirder the situation became. This whole situation was weird; but, then again, weird did not always mean bad. And this didn't feel bad; actually it felt really really good.

She could not believe it. She was getting a crush on Red! And why shouldn't she: he had rescued her; he had been there for her when she had needed someone; he was good looking; he was a snazzy dresser; and more importantly, he made her laugh. She tried to be subtle as she breathed in his sent. Before this, she had never thought a man's scent as sexy before, but man did Red smell good.

"As much as I would love to stay here all day, I unfortunately have meetings I have to attend before we head out shopping."

Feeling bold, Cass decided to snuggle deeper into her 'pillow'.

"Five more minutes." She faked yawned.

She smiled when she felt his hand move to play with her hair.


End file.
